


Lethal Intent

by Inzannatea (Zanna23)



Series: Phracking Inzane (PFF Series) [11]
Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Episode Tag, Episode: s02e05 Murder A La Mode, F/M, First Time, Phrack Fucking Friday, Smut, that dress, the complicated one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2018-09-07
Packaged: 2019-07-08 07:29:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15925727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zanna23/pseuds/Inzannatea
Summary: Post S2E05 Murder ala Mode.  “Nightcap?” “Perhaps another time--at a less dangerous hour--in a less lethal dress.”Phryne needs Jack's help.





	Lethal Intent

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to the wonderful Allison_Wonderland for the Beta-read. 
> 
> I almost posted this a couple of months ago, but another wonderful writer beat me to the premise by minutes. Brain weasels made me re-write it somewhat.

“Nightcap?” she was hopeful but not pleading.

He regarded her carefully. Hungrily. “Perhaps another time--at a less dangerous hour--in a less lethal dress.”

He turned to go, leaving her smiling at him lazily from the staircase. His low rumbling voice and look of pure desire had left her stunned.

“Jack… wait.”

The door was already open. He froze, eyes closing in a silent curse.

He knew it was late.

He knew returning the emeralds had been a pretext.

He'd come here with intent.

He’d been ready to make his move—until he arrived and realized she was still wearing that dress.

That caramel crepe concoction (whatever crepe was, it’s what Madame Fleuri had called it.)

Gorgeous on paper, absolutely breathtaking in person. It shimmered and sparkled and hugged every soft curve, draped every angle with twinkling gems.

It was just… so… damned… complicated. The caramel made him hungry. The beads and frills and everything else helped him decide tonight was not the night. _Why was she still wearing it?_

“Jack, I need your help.”

 _Whoever painted this door let some drip,_ he noted as he tried to pull himself together. “It’s late, Miss Fisher.”

The rustling of her bustle sounded closer as the hair stood up on his arms, “I know, Jack. I expected Dot home by now… but—” Her voice was immediately behind him. He turned, meeting her eyes. “—she isn’t.”

“Oh.” She really was ethereally beautiful. Her Colombian emerald eyes, her still perfectly painted ruby lips, or were they sapphire eyes? The light played tricks. She was a treasure, regardless. “Do you want me to look for her?”

“No, no. She’s with Hugh. I’m sure she’s perfectly safe. It’s just—” it felt as if the distance between them was disappearing. He didn’t know whether he was moving towards her or vice versa.

“What do you need, Miss Fisher?”

“I need your fingers, Jack.”

_Blink._

“Jack? Are you alright?” her eyes had gone wide with worry.

“Uh… um… I… you… what?”

“My gown, Jack! I can’t get out of it alone. The Fleuri sisters put me in it. I expected Dot to help me out. I’ve been stuck all evening. Please help me.”

“Miss Fisher, I don’t think it’s a…”

“Jack, do you have any idea how annoying it is to try to sit with a bustle and train?”

“I don’t. No.” He admitted.

“Please, Jack.”

“How do I start?”

She flashed him a delighted smile. “Come upstairs. I have my dressing gown up there.”

He looked at her skeptically, but knew it was too late. He was caught in her… what was it that Madame Fleuri called that net? _“Tulle”_

“How about that nightcap, after all?” she offered as they entered her private parlour.

He nodded in agreement, and set his hat down to get the drinks as she waved her hand toward the cart.

She put away her Colombian emeralds and joined him in the center of the room, accepting the glass of bourbon which matched the gems dangling from her ears..

“How does this,” he looked her up and down for any obvious fastenings and saw none, “work?”

She sipped her bourbon, keeping her eyes on him all the while. “You’ll need both hands.”

The bourbon wasn’t meant to be a shot, but it became one. He set down the glass and showed both hands.

She turned her back on him, “Start with the bustle. There are very small buttons connecting it to the dress.”

“Ah… how many? And where?”

“Ten, I think? You may have to feel around under the tulle. And just above my derriere.”  She said with mocking eyebrow and a glance over her shoulder.

He met the look with a sardonic glare, gingerly moving his hands down her back to the top of the bow. He had to move a few layers out of the way before he found the first of the buttons.

Phryne rolled her hips and pushed her ass into Jack’s hands.

“Miss Fisher,” his voice was deep and dangerous, “If you want this bustle off, you need to give me space to work.”

“Mmm… I just wanted to make sure you could get to them, Jack.”

He moved over the small of her back, pressing massaging circles as he unbuttoned.  He noted with no small amount of pride that the action elicited soft moans and gooseflesh from the worldly Phryne Fisher. “Nine,” he reported holding the bustle and train away from the skirt.

“Much better. Thank you, Jack.”

“Is that all?” his voice was raspy with lust and emotion.

Phryne turned toward Jack, “Not quite.” She rested her left hand on his shoulder, and ran her right hand down the side of her body, “There are also hidden buttons down the side of the dress. I can’t quite maneuver them. Could you?” The question hung in the air between them as she turned her face to his.

Jack was sure she could hear the pounding of his heartbeat. Her breath seemed to be keeping time with it.

His eyes never left hers as his fingertips trailed down her side, “These buttons?”

When his fingers reached her waist, he slid the bottom button through the hole. Phryne’s breath caught. She bit her lower lip, reveling in the slow and sensual attention to her shift.

She kept her arm on his shoulder.  Her eyes drifted between his lips and his lust darkened eyes.

Each button was fastidiously undone. He was not hesitant. He was methodical.

The surety in his gaze and fingers was hypnotic.

 

Phryne’s fingers glided unconsciously from Jack’s shoulder to the nape of his neck. His eyes shut in concentration as her nails lightly scratched through the short hairs. The movement of her hand brought them ever-so-slightly closer together.

Jack had undone enough of the buttons that he was able to place his hand in the gap. He couldn’t suppress a sultry smile as his fingertips pressed into the skin of her back, his thumb rubbing her belly just below her ribs. “No lingerie? That’s perilous.”

“I did say ‘usually’. It would ruin the lines of the dress,” she pouted.

His thumb stroked lightly towards her waist as his fingers kneaded her back, “I see. It’d be criminal to ruin these lines.”

He could feel her subtly tugging him closer. As much as he longed to comply, he was enjoying this slow seduction. Jack Robinson was a very patient man. He eased out of her control by removing his hand from her naked flesh and sliding it up her arm. He turned her to the side, stooping to get a better look at the buttons. He traced her side as he brought his hand back to the buttons.

Phryne smiled slyly as she looked down at Jack. He was still meeting her eyes as he worked the upper buttons with both hands. His breath was warm on her bare side.

“That’s all of them.” His voice was practically a growl as he finished the task. He started to retreat, but Phryne placed her hand on his shoulder, tacitly commanding him to stay.

She cupped his face with her hand, stroking his cheek with her thumb,“The beads of the yoke are quite complicated as well.”

“Are they?” he leaned into her hand, turning towards her palm to plant a soft kiss.

“Jack…” it was barely a whisper, but his name on her lips was loud with want.

He stood facing her, snaking his hand into the gap in the dress and caressing the small of her back, “How complicated?”

Phryne slid her hands up his chest, pushing his suit coat and overcoat off his shoulders as she did, “You’ll need full range of motion, Jack.”  Her breath was warm and sweet, and sinfully close to his lips.

Jack would usually retreat when so aroused. Tonight was not usual. Tonight he’d come here with intent. He thought he’d been foiled by the lethally luscious dress, but that obstacle was being dismantled, piece by piece. He held his ground, shrugging the layers off his body.

Phryne smiled in sultry delight, “And maybe we should loosen this as well?” Her hands moved to untie his necktie. “Wouldn’t want you get this caught on anything.”

He answered her delight with a shy smile, “Sounds dangerous.” He’d resumed the teasingly slow caress of her skin. His thumb was lightly tracing the underside of her breast.

“Potentially lethal,” she pulled him closer by the ends of the tie. Her lips were a hair’s breadth from his. He felt her lick her own lips. So close they were to his, that her tongue ghosted across his lips. He had a desperate need to sink into her mouth, to mold himself to her, to fill her with his want... but he was very much enjoying the obvious increase in her arousal the longer he held steady. He had wanted her with a passion he’d never experienced. But denying instant gratification was a practiced art, and he was a master.

“How does it unfasten?” He asked,  pressing into her soft lips with each labial articulation.

“How does… what?” She practically panted. Her hands stroked down his body to his trousers, fumbling with the band. “Unfasten…”

“Miss Fisher,” his thumb rubbed over her nipple, “I’m here on a serious mission. You asked for my help and I mean to give it.”

He smirked at the mew she let out as he quickly twirled her around to examine intricate beading on the back of the dress.

He could see that each strand of beads was attached to the straps and the neckpiece. There seemed to be three points to unhook to free her. Jack reached back through the gap in the gown and cupped her breast under the fabric.

She tried turning in his arms, to capture his lips, but he lightly pinched her nipple to keep her still.

“Ah-ah, Miss Fisher. You’ll need to let me work,” he traced his free fingertips along the lines of the beads, feeling for the first hook.

“Jack,” she moaned and pressed her breast into his palm.

He unhooked the first, causing one side of the dress to drop. He slid his fingers to the other side, quickly unhooking the strap. The back of the gown swagged below her shoulder blades leaving the neckpiece the only thing holding it to her.

His delicate touch followed her spine from the top of the fabric to the bottom of the beaded neckpiece. He slid his fingers under the beads, trying to find the hook to release her completely.

It was stuck.

Somehow the clasp had become bent and wouldn’t release.

“Hm,” Jack removed his hand from beneath the gown, trying to find better purchase with a second hand.

“What’s wrong?” Phryne asked turning her head to him.

“The hook,” Jack stuck out his tongue in concentration, “It’s stuck.”

“Just break it! Jack, please!” She really couldn’t take much more.

“Patience, Miss Fisher,”  he said with a complete lack of the same.

His fingertips were too big to pry apart the tiny metal hook. Out of frustration and a growing sense of desperation, he leaned in and took the beaded neckline in his mouth, tonguing and biting to pry the metal apart.

Phryne moaned in pleasure as his lips hit the top of her spine, “Oh... Jack! YES!”

His teeth had done the trick, he was able to unhook the damp beads and her dress dropped to the floor around her feet.

She stood with her back to him, naked save her suspender belt, stockings, shoes, fascinator.

The pretense of rescuing her from the dress was over. He paused, weighing his next move. His cock strained painfully against his trousers.

Phryne pressed her back against him. He thought he ought to be ashamed that she could obviously feel his desire straining against the cleft of her bottom. The shame passed as he was now free to cup both breasts from behind. He nuzzled her neck, just below her ear—breathing her in—and whispered, “You’re free.”

Phryne reached behind her head, arching her back as she held him to her, “Jack, touch me.”

He pulled her taut against him with a growl. He kept one hand on her breast, dropping the other to the top of her soft, dark curls.

“How do you want me to touch you, Miss Fisher?” he hummed into the cords of her neck.

Phryne placed her hand over Jack’s, guiding his fingers to her pearl.

“Like this.”  She maneuvered his hand to where she needed it, showed him how she wanted him to move.

Jack groaned into her neck as her juices of her desire coated his hand. He circled and strummed her swollen bud as she whimpered for more, “Like this?” he growled into her ear, capturing her earlobe between his teeth.

“Ja.. Ja...Jack… more,” was all she could manage.

He extended a finger, circling around her entrance. Phryne ground her pussy against his hand, desperate for him to fill her.

“More!”

Jack kneaded her breast with one hand, and then plunged the middle finger of the other into her soaking cunt, “Is this what you want?”   He continued toying with her clitoris as he added a second finger to join the first. He buried his face in her neck, nibbling and licking and kissing.

Phryne was beginning to writhe uncontrollably against him as he held her by her breasts and quim--anchoring her with his lips. Her breathing was getting heavier, unintelligible groans and mews spilled from her lips. Her head dropped back onto his shoulder and her whole body went rigid as she cried out in ecstasy. Jack felt her inner walls clamping and pulling at his fingers.

She was a glorious goddess as she came.

The twitching and spasms subsided as she went limp against him. He still held her by her breasts and sex. Jack kissed her sweaty temple as he supported her, “Like that?”

Phryne lazily turned her head, steering his head towards her to seize Jack’s lips. Her tongue demanded entrance which he enthusiastically granted.  Phryne moaned in frustration. The angle of kissing him over her shoulder wasn’t allowing her to explore as much of him as she wanted. She spun in his arms to deepen the kiss.

“You’re… wearing… too… much…” she managed to say around his tongue.  Her hands came between them and quickly started unbuttoning his waistcoat. With a parting squeeze of her bottom, he joined in the divestment. They didn’t need four hands for the waistcoat, so she went to work on his shirt. When she got to the bottom of his sternum, the lines of his clavicle were too much for her to resist. She leaned in with an open-mouthed kiss just below his Adam’s apple,  nipping and sucking along the top of his chest, dipping her tongue into his jugular notch.

Jack’s chest thrust forward as he removed his waistcoat. She sucked harder eliciting a moan of pleasure. Desperate to get to more of him, Phryne ripped at his shirt. Buttons flew off, landing who-knows-where. Jack’s eyes widened in surprise.

“I liked this shirt!” he pouted.

She sucked the pout with a tiny nibble, “I’ll buy you a new one, Jack. I want your skin.”

She rucked the shirt up out of his trousers and pushed it and his braces off his shoulders.

“If you insist.”

“I do, Jack,” She pulled down the edge of his vest and tongued his nipple while he worked the shirt off his arms.

Jack pulled the vest over his head as Phryne dropped her hands to the fastenings of his trousers.

Jack started nibbling on her jaw, “Perhaps, we should move to the bed, Miss Fisher?”

Phryne looped her arms around his neck and hopped her legs around his waist. He caught her by her bottom, “Wonderful idea, Inspector.”

She kissed him again, grinning into the kiss. Jack didn’t break the kiss as he carried her over to the bed. Phryne dropped to her knees once she was over the bed, and slid down his chest, kissing her way toward his belly. She once again attacked his trousers, this time deftly unfastening them and pulling them down over his hips.

The cotton of his smalls was profoundly tented and Phryne moaned appreciatively as he toed off his shoes and trousers. She gripped him through the fabric, reveling in the heat and size of him.

“Jack? Has anyone ever pleasured you,” she looked up at him with a mischievous glint, “orally?”

He looked down at her hungrily, “Once or twice.”

“Did you enjoy it?”

“It was… nice,” he said trying not to ruin the moment. It had been nice, but Rosie didn’t care for it, and well earlier experiences had lacked something.

She unbuttoned his smalls, releasing his angry looking cock from it’s cotton trap. Phryne gripped him by the base and pursed her lips around the head of his cock. Jack pushed the smalls down past his hips, watching Phryne in awe as her ruby lips closed over him.

Her hot, wet mouth felt amazing on his engorged penis. Her tongue was as wicked and clever as it ever was during their banter. She gripped the base of him as she sucked the tip, moving in steady rhythm. Jack was coming apart. He felt pressure building in his legs and spine, his pelvis was thrusting as if it had a mind of its own.

“Phryne... “ she looked up at him, never letting up on her work.

“Mmmm?”  She asked with a vibration that shot through him like lightning.

“Oh fuck… Phryne, I can’t stop.” He tried to pull himself out of her mouth but she sucked harder, tightening her grip. She hummed again. He cried out as the surge of his lust flooded through him and spilled down her throat. She swallowed deeply slowing her hands to a gentle stroke.

Jack was gasping for breath as Phryne climbed back up him.

“Was it nice?” She asked as she met his eyes on level.

He answered her with a searing kiss, “No,” he growled at her, “It was naughty and wicked and one of the best things I’ve ever felt… but it wasn’t ‘nice’”  He kissed her again.

 _“Ces lèvres apportent un petit de mort,”_  She stroked her hands down his arms to grab his hands, _“_ _et ces mains. Quoi d'autre?”_

“Not fair, Miss Fisher. You know how lacking my French skills are.”

She reached again for his now half-hard cock, “True.”

“I may need a few minutes,” Jack said, “I’m not as young as I used to be.”

“You’re young enough for me.”

“I don’t want to disappoint with my slow recovery and my lack of language skills,” he smiled sadly as he pushed her hair out of her eyes. She looked so deliciously disheveled.

“You could never disappoint me, Jack. And I can think of better uses for your tongue than French.”

Jack’s smile turned wicked, “Oh really, Miss Fisher? I’m thinking of a few things myself.”  

He pushed her gently onto bed and started trailing kisses down her body. His fingers once again worked their way to her dark, silky curls still slick as they’d been before. He insinuated himself between her legs, hooking his arm over her thigh to help hold her where he wanted her.

Jack placed feather-light kisses on her inner thighs, causing her to shiver with delight and anticipation. 

“Jack…” she whined, frustrated and aroused in equal measure.

He grinned against her thigh, biting it lightly. She let out a relieved moan as he nuzzled her cleft.

“Patience, Miss Fisher,” He spoke between her nether-lips, “I mean to savor the first of many doubled kisses,” he suddenly sucked her clitoris hard, “for this orient pearl.”

And many doubled kisses he lavished on her. His tongue dancing between her passage and her pearl. Phryne whined and moaned and struggled as her already sensitive sex became engulfed in her own pleasure. Her thrashing and gasping were tacitly begging for release. He sped his efforts, adding fingers to her cunt as he flicked and licked and sucked her over the edge. She came for the second time with a wail and a gush of her essence.

Everything went white.

She realized she must have temporarily passed out when she opened her eyes to a concerned looking Jack hovering over her face. His lips and chin were still glazed with her.

“Are you alright?” he was stroking her hair and limbs, trying to bring her around.

She blinked a lazy smile at him, “Mmm… more than, Jack.”

She pulled him closer to her and kissed him deeply, drinking her own honey in as she did. They kissed languidly, their hands exploring each other as their lips barely parted for what could have been minutes, could have been hours. 

Phryne’s hands made their way to Jack’s cock which was once again thick and hard.

“Jack?”

“Mmm?”

“Have you ever used a rubber?” she asked between kisses.

“Mmm. Before the war,” he replied still mapping her body with his hands, her lips with his tongue.

“There have been some advances in that field lately,” she offered conversationally, “Would you care to try it?”

Jack pulled back and smiled at her, “I’m an eager supporter of scientific progress, Miss Fisher.”

Phryne pushed him back on the bed and reached for the bedside drawer, “Latex. It’s the latest thing. Thinner than the rubber kind.”

She took the prophylactic out of the packaging and gave his cock another quick lick before rolling it on. She straddled him and rubbed her folds over his sheathed penis, coating it with her slickness. Jack shut his eyes in concentration. He wanted to last long enough for her pleasure to continue. He hoped, but didn’t want to curse it, hoped that if she were satisfied enough, he would be invited back to her bed. He’d fought with himself about denying her advances long enough. He knew she looked for pleasure for pleasure’s sake, but maybe, if he was enough…

“Where are you, Jack?” she’d stopped rubbing her clit against his cock and looked at him worried.

“I’m just enjoying this while I can,” he said honestly, “I’m where I want to be, but I won’t lie to myself that this is where I get to stay.”

Phryne leaned forward and kissed him deeply. She straightened, guiding his cock into her, “You silly man. You’re home.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> The ever present question of how to handle birth control set me to do a little research. I've seen other writers use "French Letter" for condoms, which is totally cool and appropriate, but according to my source the term "rubber" has been around for prophylactics since the at least the late 19th century.  
> Latex condoms were in use from 1929.


End file.
